


Her Eyes: A Solavellan Romance

by AngelusLorelei



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, M/F Friendship, Multi, Romance, Slow Burn, Solavellan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-02-01 17:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12709515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelusLorelei/pseuds/AngelusLorelei
Summary: One way it could have happened. I'm using this as a way to write snippets that went through my mind as I played Inquisition.  A study in character relationships and dialogue.  Some scenes occur in the game, others are of my own imagining.  Writing practice and a little love.





	1. And The World Shifted

The explosion was enormous. It shook the very fabric of the world. The sky burst into shards; green light flung itself over the world and across the sky. The blast leveled the Shrine of Sacred Ashes. Screams of the dying, the wounded, filled the air. Humans, elves, dwarves, mages, templars, civilians, all screamed. They all ran in terror, in horror from what Corephyus had wrought.

Using his staff as leverage, Solas pulled himself over rubble. An elven mage, obviously an apostate, drew some attention. But the confusion and desperation in the wake of the explosion kept anyone from stopping him. Leaning against his staff, Solas took in the destruction. The rift rent the skies, charred bodies flung as far as the valley below the shrine, spirits both harmful and helpful flung into the world. Chaos.

Knots of soldiers, scouts, and laypeople seemed to be gathering in the little village, Haven. Solas hurried towards the village. Soldiers carried a body on a stretcher. A survivor, their hand glowing like a fallen star. _The Anchor_.

Timing his arrival carefully, Solas surrendered his staff. In their fear and desperation, they allowed him access to the survivor. An elf. The vallaslin across her cheeks marked her as one of the Dalish. High cheekbones, skin marked by the odd scar or two, she was obviously a hunter. As he quickly worked to stop the Anchor from killing her, Solas began to plan.

***

There seemed to be no end to them. A bolt from Varric flew past his ear and pinned a demon to the rocks. A wisp whirled by him and then, a sudden shout. The Seeker, Cassandra, jumped into the fray. She fought to Varric’s side. A knife sliced the air next to him, rending a spirit in two. The Survivor.

“Quickly!” he shouted, “Before more come through!”

Grabbing her roughly by the hand, Solas aimed the mark towards the rift. When the rift slammed shut, The Survivor gasped. Her eyes caught and held his. Suddenly, the world seemed to shift. He was falling, falling and, and Varric was talking.

“I am Solas if there are to be introductions.”

“Cerys. I am Cerys.”

Her voice was shockingly urbane, and in the midst of chaos, she seemed composed.

“Turning the conversation back to the matter at hand, Cassandra, you should know that the magic here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

The Seeker grunted in acknowledgment.

As they made their way up the mountain, Solas found himself distracted. Her eyes, her eyes, her eyes…


	2. A Better First Impression

Cerys took a deep breath.  The mountain air was bracing, and she was thankful to be alive.  She’d been so sure that Cassandra would kill her.  The woman had been enraged over the death of The Divine and, despite Cerys’s protests of innocence, Cassandra remained unconvinced.  Now they had established a tense sort of truce.  Solas’s words in her defense coupled with the voices at The Breach had corroborated her story.  Still, glances and whispers followed her throughout the camp.  Cerys couldn’t decide whether the whispers of her divine connections were better or worse than accusations of murder.

Lost in her thoughts, when the sun reflected into her eyes, Cerys was startled.  She mumbled a curse in elven over her inattention.  Being unconscious for days a second time had taken its toll on her senses. Pushing her wayward braid over her shoulder, Cerys took in the small homes and finally noticed Solas.

He stood with his hand on his chin.  Despite appearing in deep contemplation, Cerys could feel him assessing her.  Her Keeper had often used that trick to keep younger clan members from guessing that she was observing them. 

 _Very well_. _Perhaps I can make a better first impression_.

With that brief thought, she strolled over to the mage.

“Good afternoon.”

As he centered his full attention on her, Cerys felt her stomach drop.  His gaze was intense.

“Ah,” he began, “The Chosen of Andraste.  A blessed hero come to save us all.”

At a loss, she blurted the first thing that came to mind,

“Sounds dashing!  Am I riding in on a shining steed?”

Before she could mentally kick herself for sounding like an idiot, Solas grinned.

“I’d suggest a griffon, but sadly they’re extinct.”

Cerys felt an answering smile blossom on her face.  Solas paused, and something flickered over his face, too quick for her to understand.  He turned from her and began discussing his studies on The Fade and heroes.  His voice was captivating, and she knew he was trying to get her measure.  But,

“Did you say, ancient ruins?  What do you mean ruins and battlefields?  You’ve dreamt of battles and seen civilizations in The Fade?”

Her excitement was palpable.  Being born without magic meant that, unfortunately, Cerys had not been privy to all knowledge of her clan elders.  Something she dearly missed was history lessons, such as they were, from her Keeper and clan Hahren.  Solas appeared momentarily startled and then, pleased.

“I’d be concerned about falling asleep in ancient ruins.  Isn’t that dangerous?”

"It can be."

Thoughts of giant spiders and ghouls made her shudder briefly.  Even with magic, Solas appeared largely non-threatening.  It was hard for her to imagine him striking fear into hearts or fighting monsters.  As though he read her mind, he replied,

“So long as you leave food out, the giant spiders are largely content to let live and let live.”

“I imagine you find some amazing things, among the demons.”

“Exactly.  One can find amazing things.  But… It can be sad to see what has been lost.   
But the thrill of finding the remnants of a thousand-year-old dream?  I would not trade it for anything.”

They stood in silence for a moment.  Then,

“It is settled.  I will stay.  At least until The Breach is closed.”

Startled, Cerys stared him, confused.

“Was that ever in doubt?”

“I am an apostate.  And unlike you, I do not have a divine mark upon my hand to protect me.  Cassandra has been… accommodating.  But you understand my caution?”

“Naturally.” Cerys sighed, “Humans…You came here to help Solas.  I wouldn’t let them use that against you.”

He seemed almost bemused,

“Oh?  And how would you stop them?”

The quiet fierceness in her voice surprised even herself, “However I had to.”

Tension crackled between them, and she didn’t fully understand why.  But before she could say anything else, Solas smiled and replied,

“Thank you. I believe you would.”

Cerys coughed and felt her cheeks turn pink as he said something about the mages and templars.  Excusing herself, Cerys hurried away.  They’d have to venture into the Hinterlands soon enough, and she refused to be jumping out of her skin at his presence.  As she walked towards the training grounds, Cerys worried her lip with her teeth and gently tugged at her hair. 

_I can’t let him think I mean him harm. Or that I fear him._

At the gate, she risked a glance back.  Though she was far enough away that she could not make out Solas’s features, she knew he still was watching her. 

 _I wonder_ , she mused, _if he feels the same concern about me_.

Pausing a moment to give herself a shake and take a deep breath, Cerys opened the gate door.


	3. Of Wolves and Spirits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for animal death in this chapter.

Solas breathed a sigh of relief.  They had finally reached the edges of Master Dennet’s farm.  Fighting their way through rogue mages, apostates, and wildlife had been rather taxing.  The Inquisition’s hold in the area was tenuous at best, so there had been nowhere for them to rest or camp. 

Despite his complaints, Varric was quickly able to set up both his tent and Cassandra’s.  The warrior’s arm was still in a sling from where a minor terror demon had rent her armor.  Solas had healed her broken arm, but in his diminished state, he didn’t have the energy to close the cut all the way.  Cursing his weakness, Solas sat on a log heavily near where Lavellen was starting a fire.

Her brows were furrowed in concentration as she fanned an ember into a flame.  Crouching back on her heels, she brushed a hand over her forehead.  The movement drew Solas’s eyes to her vallaslin.  Her marks were relatively simple compared to others he had seen.  The marks of Mythal flowed across the apples of her cheeks.  And despite their cruel meaning, they highlighted both her cheekbones and her eyes.

Those large eyes met his own sending a jolt through him again.  Cerys’s smile only deepened the effect of her eyes.  Solas stood and drew a cloth from his pack.  He’d go to the river nearby and wash his face. Hopefully, the cold water would do something for his senses.  But before he could move, a howl pierced the quiet night.

“Wolves,” Cassandra grunted, pulling her scabbard closer to her.

“Well, so long as they stay on their side of the valley, we should be fine.”

The undercurrent of exhaustion in his voice belayed Varric’s cheerful tone.  If the wolves came tonight, they’d be hard-pressed to fight off a whole pack.  Another howl, long and mournful, carried over their camp.

“A few miles off.”

Lavellen had stepped to the edge of their little camp.  Holding onto the guy line of her tent, she cocked her head.  Solas couldn’t help but chuckle; she looked rather wolf-like herself listening to them that way.

“I doubt they will bother us.” He intoned

“The animals in this area are acting strange though.” Lavellen frowned, “I hope the rifts are not hurting them.” 

“Hurting them?” Varric griped, “Let’s hope nothing comes from those rifts to hurt us!”

“I’ll take first watch.” Lavellen sighed.

That night Solas dreamed of flashing green eyes, quiet paws, and slavering fangs.

***

In the morning, Lavellen led them into Master Dennet’s farm proper.  The place was largely deserted.  Storehouses and homes stood empty.  With his lands in such a state, it was doubtful that the Horse Master could spare any of his animals for them.  When they spoke with Dennet, Solas’s fears were confirmed. 

“Talk to my wife about securing the farmlands.  Once that’s done, we can talk Inquisition.”

Dennet’s wife was quick to explain their problem.  Wolves had been attacking and plaguing the area.  Lavellen’s face drew down into a frown.

“Wolves don’t attack people like that,” she muttered, “not unless they’re desperate.  And there is plenty of game in the area.  Why would they-?”

“They’re like beasts with the water sickness but worse.” The older woman replied, “I lived through The Blight.  Haven’t seen anything like that since the darkspawn sent animals into a frenzy.”

“It is possible that the rift is affecting them.” Cassandra offered,

“That is highly likely.  Or,” Solas crossed his arms remembering his dream, “it could be that a spirit has taken control of them.”

“Either way,” Elena waved them off, “deal with them so I can call our farmers back.  Can’t send my man or horses without hands to help the place.”

As they walked to the north, Lavellen grew tense.  Solas heard her whispering to herself,

“I don’t like this.”

He fell into stride beside her,

“We have fought many demons since we’ve come from Haven.”

“It’s not them I’m necessarily worried about.” She shook her head, “Solas, if it is something controlling them, can we save them?  That is if we destroy the thing holding them-?”

Cerys trailed off as Cassandra found tracks, large ones, leading towards a cave.

“If I were a wolf,” Varric began, pulling Bianca from her holster, “I’d hide in here.”

As they entered the cave, Lavellen whispered again,

“Solas, if we kill the demon, would the animals be-“

A scream echoed through the chamber causing his skin to prickle.  It was a terror again.  Lavellen’s daggers barely made a noise as she pulled them from their sheaths.  Suddenly from the darkness, a giant wolf flung itself at them.  Cerys’s yell as the animal took her down was nearly drowned out by the terror demon’s shrieks from the dark.  Without thinking, Solas drew on the veil and fade stepped through the wolf on top of Lavellen.  The animal yelped in pain, and an arrow from Varric allowed Lavellen to get out from under the beast.

“The demon!” Cassandra’s roar caused the majority of the wolves to attack her.  The animals were frenzied.  They didn’t seem to feel pain or fear.  While Varric and Cassandra were concentrating on the wolves, Lavellan was working her way towards the back of the cavern.  Solas swore as she engaged the demon alone.

“Lavellan!”

The terror’s claws rent the air.  Its shrieks were ear piercing, and Lavellen fell back, stunned.  The terror quickly tore through the fade and went in for the kill.

“CERYS!”

A surge of magic flew through him, for a moment he felt fully like himself again.  The fade around him rippled and tore as he reached through it.  The terror screamed again, but this time in pain as Solas froze it solid.  With a shout, he stepped through the foul thing as Cerys jumped and embedded both her daggers in its back.  The demon shattered.

The remaining wolves ran, yelping, deeper into the cave and away.  Reflexively casting a barrier around them, Solas knelt next to Cerys.  She was shaking like a leaf.  Quickly he checked her for injuries.  A shallow cut over her eye was bleeding profusely but was far from life-threatening.  A touch of magic and it was gone, closed without a scar.

“Lavellen?”

She was staring at the ground trembling.

“Herald?”

Cassandra’s tone was unsure.

“Lavellen,” Solas began again, “Cerys.”

When he touched her shoulder, Cerys slowly raised her head and met his eyes.  As she seemed to realize where she was, at last, she got to her feet. 

“Let’s… I’ll…”

Wiping a hand down her face, Cerys tried again, “Let’s check for a rift in the cave.  Or valuables. Wolves can’t have been the only ones to use this cave for something.”

Cassandra nodded, pleased to have direction.  Varric shot Solas a glance but began to look around for anything useful.  Standing, Solas took a long drink from a healing draught.  Something was not right.

***

For the rest of the afternoon, Cerys was remarkably quiet.  Once back on the farm, she made a report to Elena in quick, clipped terms.  After disappearing to wash in the river, Cerys took both of her daggers, a bow, and a quiver of arrows and disappeared from camp.  As the shadows lengthened into the evening, she still had not returned.

“Well Chuckles,” Varric sat down next to Solas, “What do we do if she doesn’t come back?”

Cassandra scoffed, “She’ll come back.”

“I don’t know Seeker.  I’ve seen enough people go into shock to know something was up.  She was shaking like someone going through lyrium withdrawal.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise, “She will be back.  If I have learned anything about the Herald the past several weeks, it is that she is an honorable woman.”

Solas nodded, “I’m sure she’s just-“

Suddenly Cerys stepped from the shadows and dropped a brace of rabbits next to the fire.

“Hunting.”  Cerys completed his sentence, “She was just hunting.  Now she’s going to get wood for a spit.”

Without another word, she seemed to dissolve back into the shadows.  Before Varric could say anything else, Cassandra pulled a knife from her boot,

“Leave it alone Varric.”

With that, Cassandra began to clean the rabbits.

Cerys barely ate and avoided all attempts at conversation.  Citing a headache, she retired early to her tent and left the three of them to their own devices.  Cassandra took the first watch, and Varric joined her.  As quietly as possible, Solas crept toward Cerys’s tent, pulled it open, and peered in.  The Herald was fast asleep but was muttering and shifting.  Quickly and quietly Solas let the tent flap fall closed.  He made his way past the fire and into the dark.  After a time he found an outcrop of stone.  Resting against a rock, he closed his eyes.  A barrier sprung to life around him, and as easily as breathing, he slid into the fade.

Solas suddenly found himself blinking in the bright sunlight.  He could smell smoke nearby and hear laughter.  Parting the branches in front of him, he quickly found the source of the smoke, a Dalish encampment.  Elves gossiped, repaired aravels, fed halla, and went about their lives.  Gently probing with his magic, Solas quickly found who he was looking for.  A little elven girl, no more than six, was playing with several other children at the edge of the camp.  Her face was unembellished with vallaslin, but her eyes were the same, Cerys.

Solas stepped through the fade, unseen, and arrived at the edge of their little huddle.

“The hunters killed a big wolf!” one of the children babbled, “I saw them bring it back and skin it!”

“Hahren says that all the wolves belong to Fen’Harel.” Another sniffed, “I think it’s a good thing they killed it.”

“Where?” Cerys cocked her head, “Were they attacking the halla?”

“No,” the first child replied, “The hunters found it over there.”

The child gestured to the east.  As more children joined their circle, they all quickly returned to their games.  None of the children noticed Cerys slip away.  Solas followed the little girl, wrapping the fade around him to remain unseen in this memory, this dream.

Hesitantly little Cerys made her way through the woods.  Even as a child her ability to pay attention to her surroundings was apparent.  A broken branch, a track, all allowed her to find her way to a hollow quickly.  Tugging on her plait, Cerys peered into a small cave.  Aloud she mused,

“I wonder if that’s where the wolves lived.”

A rustling inside the cave caused her to jump backward.  But before she could turn to run, several little bodies emerged from the cave.

“Puppies.”

Cerys’s voice trembled with pleasure.  Kneeling on the ground, the little girl held out her hand.  Quietly she coaxed the little ones out,

“ _Aneth ara_.  Don’t be scared.  I won’t hurt you.”

Solas felt a shift in the air.  Something terrible was about to happen.  Instinctively, he stepped closer to Cerys.  The snap of a twig made the little girl jump; the cubs ran back into the cave.

“What are you doing here?”

Cerys began to tremble as several of her clan's hunters emerged from the forest.

“I, I was just.”

“Go home.”

“Why are _you_ here Afan?”

Solas felt a surge of pride.  The girl was obviously afraid of the hunter who had ordered her home.  But she stood her ground. The lad was barely an adult; his vallaslin was fresh.  He had obviously only recently become a hunter.

“I am here because the Keeper ordered it,” Afan’s voice was full of pride, “You’re the one who shouldn’t be here.”

“Afan,” an elder hunter’s voice sliced through the air, “Enough!”

To Cerys, the hunter gently prodded, “Go home _da’len_. Your mother will be missing you.”

“But… the puppies.  Eiriol?”

“Home.  Now.” Eiriol ordered, “We will take care of them.”

Cerys was visibly torn, but she turned and began to walk back towards the camp.  The dream narrowed in on Cerys.  He was forced to follow her.  When she felt she was far enough away to avoid detection, Carys changed directions and quickly made her way back to the clearing.

“No.” Solas breathed

But it was too late.  Cerys watched as Afan brought a dagger down on the first pup.  Cerys screamed, and the hunters all turned towards her.  Cerys’s eyes were wide; she screamed in horror as the other hunters quickly grabbed the other cubs before they could run away.

“ _Da’len_ we-“

“NO!”

Cerys turned and ran.  She ran towards her camp and through it.  Though several elves made a move to stop her, she avoided their hands and kept running.

“Nononononononono.”

Sobbing the little girl flung herself into the dirt.

“They can’t!  They can’t!!”

Kicking her leg out, the girl struck something.  It was the statue of Fen’Harel her clan kept at the far reaches of their camp.  In desperation, Cerys curled around the statue,

“Please!”  her cries were muffled, “Help them!  Save- save them! Please…”

Her words trailed off into sobs of anguish.  The dream faded around them until only Cerys wrapped around the statue remained.  Solas stepped forward from the dark.  Gently he brushed her hair over her shoulder.

Cerys jumped, and as soon as she saw him, she recognized him.  Still a child, she flung herself into his arms.

“Solas!”

He shushed her and rubbed her back.

“I couldn’t; I couldn’t help them!  They were crying and I couldn’t-“

“I know, I know.”

As he comforted her, he felt her body shift and change.  Fully grown, as he had always known her, Cerys wept into his shoulder.

“It was just the terror Lavellen, Cerys.  It made you remember these things.  A time when you were frightened and powerless.  Look here,”

Solas gathered his will, and as Cerys watched, the world around them shifted.  Suddenly they were in the Hinterlands again. 

“The, the cave.”

“Yes.  Look.”

As Cerys watched, wolves circled and slowly entered the cave.  Time passed.  Seasons.  A pack reformed, wintered in the cave, birthed pups, lived and died.

“You made this possible.  With the terror dead and the nearby rifts closed, the wolves will be free to come back.  They can live as they were meant to without interference.  Some we killed, the rest, they are safe.  You did that.  **You** did that da’len.”

Brushing his fingers over Cerys’s cheeks, Solas dried her tears.

“I’m a fool,” Cerys whispered.

“Never.” Solas’s tone was firm but gentle, “You were a child.  You did the best you could.  And now,” he cupped her cheek, “you are safe.  Wake up.”

In the real world, Solas opened his eyes.  Dampening his barrier, he made his way back to camp slowly and in a roundabout way.  When he finally entered the camp, things were quiet.  A light emanated from Cerys’s tent, but she did not come out.  Making himself comfortable, Solas drifted off to sleep, a real sleep this time.  But despite patience and searching, Cerys did not come back into the fade that night.

When he awoke, Cerys had gone.  To Master Dennet with Cassandra, Varric informed him.  They were marking places for watchtowers and they would meet them back at Haven.


	4. The Party

Orlais had been a shock.  Despite her clan actively engaging with humans, Cerys had never seen the like of Val Royeaux.  The buildings themselves seemed to glitter in the sunlight.  Men and women in fine silks, furs, and precious metals were everywhere in the Bazaar.  Cerys’s pride in her newly made armor quickly faded.  But, one did not show weakness in the face of a dangerous animal and, in Cerys’s opinion, Val Royeaux deserved the same kind of caution. 

Meeting with the Revered Mothers had been a disaster.  None would listen, and the appearance of the Lord Seeker had been appalling.  As polite as she had been, Cerys felt nothing but rage over the treatment of the Mothers.  A warrior striking a blow to an unarmed elderly woman?  It was obscene.  Luckily they had managed to leave that encounter without bloodshed.  And, despite appearances, it seemed some of the Revered Mothers were reassured that she was not a simple savage bent on their destruction.  A messenger waved them down, and Cerys cautiously approached.

“Madame de Fer wishes to invite you to her soiree, Lady Herald.”

“Oh?”

“She would be honored if you would attend.  She is most interested in making your acquaintance.”

“I… thank you.  Please tell Madame de Fer I accept.”

With a nod, the messenger departed.

“Lady Vivienne is the First Enchanter of the Circle here.” Cassandra explained, “She has great power and is an advisor to Empress Celene.”

“Then I’ll do my best not to offend her when I attend her party.  Perhaps you would attend with me?”

Cassandra snorted, “Thank you, but I think not.  Take the dwarf.  He is better suited to charm a room than I am.”

“Oh, a party?” Varric chuckled, “Well they do have those lovely little cakes here in Orlais.”

“Solas?”

The mage seemed startled.

“I’m not sure that bringing an elvan apostate to a high society party would be politically beneficial to you Herald.”

“I suppose.  But technically all mages are considered apostates now.  And, if Madame de Fer is a mage, having magical backup would be preferable.”

Solas shook his head, “I doubt the Enchanter would engage in hostilities at her own party.  It would be beneath her.”

“Chuckles is right.  We’ll be fine on our own.  And besides, we need to get you something to wear.”

Cerys looked down at her armor,

“I suppose.  If we can spare the coin.”

Varric laughed, “I still have connections with merchant guilds all over northern Thedas!  I’d be a terrible businessman if I couldn’t scrounge up something decent for you on short notice!  Follow me.”

Cerys shot a look of concern at both Cassandra and Solas but followed Varric anyway.

“This I have to see.” Cassandra quickly followed them leaving Solas to catch up.

***

“No, no, no!” Varric waved the shop assistant away, “You must be joking!  We may not be from Orlais, but we know overpriced fabric when we see it!”

A mask may have covered the assistant’s face but his posture radiated offense.

“Sir I assure you-“

Varric cut him off, “And I assure you, we can find other shops to spend our money in if you prefer to insult us.  Come on Lavellen.”

“Varric,” Cerys touched his arm, “I know it’s because I’m elvan.  I-“

“Elf, human, or dwarf, you should get decent service.  The first lesson in politics kid, you want to be treated like somebody important, demand that respect. No need to be an ass, but confidence and self-respect are key.”

Cerys’s shoulders slumped.  They’d been sneered at and turned away from six shops now.  This seemed a fool’s errand.

“I can go in-“

“Ah!  Here we go!” Varric stopped suddenly, “I recognize that sign.”

Without pausing, he pushed the door open leaving Cerys to hurry after him.  As Varric chatted up the proprietor, a dwarf this time, Cerys glumly stared at the fabric in front of her.  Reaching out, she touched a purple silk.  It was finer than anything she’d ever owned.

“Beautiful.”

Solas leaned against his staff and studied the fabric with her.

“I- yes.” she replied.

“Varric is right about one thing.”

Solas caught her eye and held it, “Whether they give you respect or not, do not ever forget who you are.  You have already done things many thought impossible and you intend to do more.  That mark on your hand, you are the key to our salvation.”

Cerys looked down at her hand briefly.  Solas looked like he was going to say something else, but Varric suddenly appeared behind them. 

“Here you are! Helga here thinks she has just the thing for you!”

The dwarven woman smiled at Cerys.

“My you have beautiful eyes!  And your figure!  You’ll be a dream to dress!  Come, follow me!”

She quickly led Cerys away.

“Sure you don’t want to come to the party Chuckles?  Should be a real interesting time.”

Solas shook his head watching Cerys,

“She’ll be better off without me.”

After a few hours, Cerys emerged from the back of the shop.

“Well?” Helga gestured, “What do you think?”

Varric let out a low whistle.  The dress was simple, it had to be considering how little time they had, but the cut and color were wonderful.

“You are- You look beautiful!” Cassandra seemed genuinely enthusiastic, “There is even space for you to hide your weapons!”

“Oh yes,” Helga chuckled, “She insisted.”

“Good.” Cassandra nodded, “Better to be prepared.”

Cerys blushed under their scrutiny.  Varric elbowed Solas,

“Well!  What do you think?  She going to shame the Inquisition?”

“Certainly not.”

Solas frowned at the dwarf but shot Cerys a small smile,

“I believe you’ll do quite well.”

***

As evening fell, Cerys and Varric approached Vivienne’s estate.

“Remember,” Varric said, “Don’t let them see you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!”

“That’s the spirit!”

The two entered the foyer, and Varric quickly walked over to the servant with the guest list and with a few quick words, the servant announced,

“Presenting Lady Lavellen, on behalf of the Inquisition.”

Several nobles ooh’ed and ah’ed.  Others tittered behind gloved hands and fans.  Lavellan squared her shoulders and calmly walked through the room.  Glancing around, she took in the décor.  Her anxiety faded in a rush of adrenaline, and she became hyper-focused.  Several finely clad people quickly walked up to her and introduced themselves.

“What a pleasure to meet you, my lady!”

“Yes!  We are so glad to see a new face!”

“Would you care for a drink?  Some punch?”

Before she could become overwhelmed, Varric appeared at her elbow.

“There you are!  Here, I’ve taken the liberty of getting you some punch.”

“And who are you?” one of the nobles looked down his nose at Varric.

“Varric Tethras at your service.”

The dwarf bowed, and before he’d even risen fully upward again, one of the nobles let out a small shriek,

“ _The_ Varric Tethras?  The author of those wonderful books?!  Etienne, oh Etienne!  Come here quickly!  Do you know who this is?  It’s Varric Tethras!”

Varric seemed shocked for a moment, but then quickly recovered.  Cerys took advantage of their distraction and quickly walked away.  As she approached the fountain, two other nobles greeted her.

“A pleasure to meet you, my lady!  Are you here as a guest of Madame de Fer?  Or are you here for Duke Bastian?”

“Are you here on business? I have heard the most curious tales of you.  I cannot imagine half of them are true.”

The two seemed friendly enough and Cerys managed to engage them both in conversation.  To her surprise, she found she was enjoying herself.

“The storytellers may have exaggerated I’m afraid.”

“But only for the best effect, I am sure!  If you don’t mind my saying so, you are most charming my lady.”

A voice cut through the crowd,

“The Inquisition.  What a load of pig shit.”

Cerys turned to see a young man walking down the stairs.

“Washed up sisters and crazed Seekers.  No one can take them seriously.”

He walked passed her, shoving her with his shoulder.  Her two acquaintances seemed appalled at his behavior.  Cerys made a face.  The man stank of wine.

“Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for political outcasts to grab power.”

Cerys suddenly remembered a look Solas had given a drunkard in Haven and did her best to replicate it.  She looked down her nose at the man and raised a brow as if shocked that such a fool could possibly exist.  In her haughtiest voice, she replied,

“The Inquisition is trying to restore peace and order to Thedas.  Furthermore, I want justice for The Divine.  As I’m sure, we all do.”

“Here comes the outsider, restoring peace with an army! Ha!  If you were a woman of honor, you’d step outside and answer these charges!”

The air around her seemed to waver, and Cerys felt a tingle up her arm through her mark.  But then, the air chilled, and the man froze. 

“My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house, to my guests.”

Cerys looked up at the woman making her way down the stairs.  Dressed in white, silver, and gold, she was stunning.  This had to be Lady Vivienne.  Cerys couldn’t help but smile as Vivienne publically eviscerated her adversary.  

“You know such rudeness is… intolerable.”

“Madame Vivienne I humbly beg your pardon.”

“You should.  Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?”

Cerys’s respect and admiration grew with each word Vivienne spoke.  Then the First Enchanter addressed her,

“My lady, you are the wounded party in this unfortunate affair.”

Vivienne gave her a subtle smile, “What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

Cerys returned Vivienne’s smile and tossed her hair.

“The Marquis doesn’t interest me.  Do whatever you like with him.”

Cerys surprised even herself with her tone.  She sounded almost as proud and fierce as her hostess.  Vivienne dispatched Cerys’s attacker and then offered her services to the Inquisition.  Several hours later, Cerys had made the acquaintance of several dozen nobles and had even managed, with Vivienne and Varric’s help, to gain some pledges of support.  Stepping into the garden, she finally found herself alone.

“You’ve done very well.”

Cerys jumped and reached for her dagger. 

“Show yourself!”

Solas stepped from the shadows.

“Solas!  What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, “Elves not in fine clothing are practically invisible.  No one takes notice of who they assume to be a mere servant.”

Offering his arm, he bowed,

“My lady?”

Cerys smiled and linked her arm with his.

“Just as I said, you did wonderfully without me.”

“Well, you were wrong about open hostilities.”

Solas smiled, “I said that Madame de Fer wouldn’t threaten you, and she did not.  That fool of a man hardly counts as a threat.”

Cerys’s chuckle was cut off when Solas suddenly kissed her hand,

“Enjoy the rest of your evening Lady Herald.  I look forward to hearing about the rest of your night.”

Before she could say a word, he disappeared into the shadows again.  Her hand tingled where he’d kissed her, and she had to take a great deal of time gathering her wits before entering Vivienne’s home again.

 

 


	5. The Bog Unicorn Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being very long so it is split into two parts.

Cerys returned from Orlais with two new companions but not much else to show for the trip.  Vivienne continued to be as impressive as she had been at her party.  Cerys had initially been worried that the enchanter would find Haven detestable.  Vivienne had instead, quickly rolled up her sleeves, and begun working with Josephine on diplomatic matters.  When she wasn’t working to build the Inquisition’s reputation, Vivienne made herself useful studying the rifts, providing counsel, and training the few mages who had initially joined up with them.

Sera was less overtly useful.  If her disappointment at Cerys being an elf remained, she took better care not to show it.  If Cerys needed to find her, she was often either in the tavern eating, practicing her archery, or turning her nose up at any noble who found themselves in Haven.  Cerys found her amusing but at times tiring.

As to how to deal with their immediate problem, her inner circle found itself divided.  Leliana favored seeking the mages, Cullen the remaining templars, and Josephine was excellent at never giving a straight answer.  Round and round they went until Cerys had snapped,

“Whatever you choose, you’ll have to make a decision and soon!”

In the days that followed, gathering resources had taken precedent.  They were hugely short on necessities.  When elfroot and iron ran low, Cerys took it upon herself to learn the area immediately surrounding Haven.  Traps she set landed nugs for leather.  Elfroot grew in great quantities on the east side of the lake, and she even found an area rich in iron deposits. 

By and large, she and her companions were left to their own devices.  This was initially surprising.  But Cerys reveled in the unexpected freedom.  In addition to collecting resources, she’d spent quite a bit of time in The Hinterlands helping refugees.  Hunting for meat, blankets, and herbs was all too familiar as a Dalish elf.  She often brought Solas and Cassandra with her on these excursions.  The three of them often fell into a companionable rhythm of setting up camps and completing tasks and seeing to trouble.  Today, however, she had no immediate plans. 

Wandering around Haven, Cerys replied to greetings with a raised hand or a few words.  Making her way out to the training grounds, she was intercepted by Leliana. 

“I have something for you.”

Cerys had begun to enjoy Leliana’s company.  Her initial fear of the woman had been slightly tempered by their conversation about the passing of the Divine.

“What is it?”

Leliana offered her what appeared to be part of a report.  Attached to the larger parchment was a note, slightly singed and written in a spikey hand.  Despite the note’s worn state, it was elegantly written.  It read:

_The Inquisition has need, and we would provide.  We have in our possession a mount of noble spirit, fallen in battle against rage, returned to life by the boundless urge to run and serve a worthy cause and noble master.  Prove what your followers already believe, that your reach is beyond this realm.  That death is no barrier to victory._

It was signed, “The Collective.”

“What do you make of it?”

Leliana pursed her lips, “The Collective… I suspect this comes from The Mage Collective of Fereldan.  I have had dealings in the past with them.”

“When you traveled with The Warden?”

Cerys’s interested tone caused a brief smile to cross Leliana’s face,

“Yes.  They are a group of mages who operate outside of Chantry laws.  A secret society, they have both Circle mages and apostates in their ranks.  Or they did.” Leliana’s smile turned cold, “All mages are considered apostates now.”

“A mount of noble spirit, fallen… Have you shown this to Solas or Viviene?”

“No.  Since you will most likely be the one riding this…. creature, I wished to present it to you first.  If you have no use for it, then there is no need to spread the information to others.”

Cerys nodded thoughtfully, turning the note over in her hands.  She was sorely tempted just to satisfy her curiosity.  Regretfully, Cerys's education had not included much in the way of magic and spirits.

“I think,” she began slowly, “that I had better get some information first.”

Leliana nodded and fell into step with her, “A wise choice.  I can bring Solas and Vivienne to the war table?”

“Perhaps just Solas.  And anything you have on this Collective would be most appreciated.”

Nodding, Leliana took the report and made her way towards the last place Solas had been seen.  Taking a breath of the mountain air, Cerys turned her eyes to The Breach.  Not including Vivienne would surely be seen as a slight.  However, in the little time she’d spent with the First Enchanter, she knew that Vivienne would not approve of The Collective’s offer.  Cerys had found her views on magic surprisingly conservative.  Still, a resurrected mount?  Possibly possessed by a spirit?  That could be something worth having.

 

***

Solas closed his eyes and leaned against the wall behind him.  Leliana had been extremely vague when she’d asked him to lend his expertise.  Even more interesting was that he got the impression Lady Vivienne would not be part of this meeting.  Once the circle mage had arrived, he found that people sought his skills and council less.  At first, this had been a nice respite, but it had quickly become insulting.  The woman was a formidable mage, but Circles were limited by The Chantry and-  Solas shook his head to clear it.  He could feel a headache coming on.

On the heels of that thought, the heavy wooden door swung open. 

“I don’t see why you need me.”

“Because I don’t know near enough about magic **or** the potential for it to go wrong.  Besides, I like hearing you talk.”

That parting remark from Lavellan made Commander Cullen blush to the roots of his hair.  Solas raised a brow.  Cerys caught his eye, smiled brightly, and winked.  Solas felt his own cheeks heat up and scowled.  Cerys’s bright smile faltered, cursing silently, Solas moved forward to reassure her.  Leliana cleared her throat,

“Now that you’re all here we can begin.  Cullen, have you seen this?”

The Commander took the proffered report and began glancing through it.

“No… I-“

He trailed off, reading rapidly.

“When you finish, give it to Solas.  Our Herald would like some information.”

Solas glanced at Cerys who was intently studying the map of Orlais on the table.  Passing the paper to Solas, Cullen was quick to growl,

“I don’t like it.”

Leliana’s laughed brightly, “I knew you wouldn’t.  But take a moment and let us think.”

Solas read the missive quickly.  A Mage Collective?  Interesting.

“As best as my spies can tell,” Leliana began, “they are largely concentrated here.  And here,” she pointed to a spot south of them, “is where they’d offer the creature to us.”

“That’s a long way from Haven,” Cerys commented, her fingers sweeping up the map.

“Several days at least.” Leliana agreed.

“Wait, you’re not actually suggesting we accept this… thing?!”

“At the moment, I haven’t suggested anything,” Leliana retorted, “Lavellan wants information and opinions.”

“It’s easy,” Cullen grunted, “Don’t.  We don’t know who these mages are, their allegiance.  How do we know they didn’t have something to do with the death of The Divine?”

“We don’t,” Cerys’s tone was tense, “And I had thought of that.”

Solas nodded.  Of course, she had.

“but….” Cerys trailed off shifting from foot to foot.

“But, you’re curious.” Solas felt a smile ghost across his face.  She was always curious.

“I am.”

“You shouldn’t accept strange, potentially dangerous gifts, simply to satisfy your curiosity.”

As Cullen began, he sounded resolute.  But looking at Cerys’s hopeful face, his tone gentled.

“Lavel-“ he coughed, “Lady Herald, we don’t know anything about this ‘Collective.’”

“Which is why I have taken the liberty of finding out what I can.”

With that said, Leliana lifted a comically large stack of scrolls onto the table.

Lavellen’s eyes widened, “You’ve got this much?  On a secret society?”

“Of course.” Leliana smiled, “You said you wanted everything I had on The Mage Collective.”

“That’s…” Cerys tentatively reached towards the pile of parchment.

“Quite a bit.” Solas finished her thought, “Perhaps you can summarize for us, Spymaster?”

“Of course.  As I’ve said, they are a group of mages both inside and outside of the circle who wish to practice magic outside of chantry restrictions.  My first encounter with The Collective was around ten years ago when I was traveling with The Hero of Fereldan.  One of their agents stopped us on our way to Fereldan’s Circle Tower.  In exchange for our aid, they offered theirs.  Our Warden was frighteningly low on allies and resources so, she accepted.  As far as I can tell, in the past decade, they have kept a low enough profile.  They certainly aided mages in Kirkwall, but it is unclear whether any of them had dealings with the mage Anders.”

Cullen’s frown deepened, but Leliana continued undaunted,

“Whether they dealt with him or not, Anders was definitely a rogue working alone when it came to the destruction of Kirkwall’s chantry.”

“And I believe he paid the price for it, did he not?”

Leliana nodded at Solas, “Correct.  Hawke killed him in Kirkwall.”

Cullen looked like he wanted to say something, but the man settled for clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth.

“And now?” Cerys prompted.

“And now,” Leliana continued, “it is certain that they have members in both the loyalist and the rebel factions.  Whether one of them is responsible for,” here she took a steadying breath before continuing,  “for Justinia’s death, I cannot say.  However, based on what Lavellen heard at The Breach added to the fact that the Grey Wardens have disappeared, I would say there are more likely suspects.”

Cerys nodded and tugged at some errant strands of her hair, thinking.

“Solas,” she began, “what sort of magic would cause an animal to rise again like this?”

“Necromancy comes to mind.  However, based on the letter, it seems more probable that a spirit possesses the body.”

“The letter says it was cut down by rage.” Cullen frowned, “A rage demon?”

Solas shook his head, “I find that unlikely.  A horse struck down in battle would not feel the level of anger necessary to attract such a thing.  I would suggest looking towards more benevolent beings if we are to guess.”

“Kindness?  Faith?” Leliana offered.

“Impossible to say without it here to study.  But I would suggest a spirit of loyalty or perhaps freedom.”

“Loyalty or freedom…” Lavellen picked up a marker from the map and began turning it over in her hand. “Cullen, have you ever come across something like this?  In your days as a templar?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, the Commander seemed to choose his words carefully.

“Nothing exactly like this, no.  But if a demon can possess a person, why not an animal?  Our orders were always to kill an abomination on sight.  And with good reason.”

Leliana nodded, “There is nothing to suggest this isn’t a trap.  Then again, there is nothing to suggest it is one either.  A horse, even one possessed could be put down.”

“Indeed,” Solas agreed, “And there are many binding spells that could be used to prevent it from harming others.”

Leliana seemed to remember something suddenly,

“Justice.” She muttered and began digging through her scrolls. 

“A moment.  I will be right back.”

She quickly left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Solas, Cerys, and Cullen stood in a surprisingly comfortable silence for a few moments.

“What are you thinking My Lady?”

Cullen’s inquiry seemed to startle Cerys for a split second before she replied,

“I am thinking, I would very much like to see this thing.  I do like animals, even strange ones.”

“Is that what you’ve been talking to Minaeve about?”

Cerys smiled, but it seemed pained, “Yes a bit.”

A pause and then Solas prompted, “I believe that Minaeve was born to a Dalish clan.”

“Yes.” Cerys replied shortly, “And she was cast out as their clan already had a First and Second.”

“I was not aware that is what Dalish did with their mages.” Cullen faltered.

Before Cerys could reply, Leliana returned.  Pausing momentarily, Leliana’s eyes quickly shifted to each of them, taking in the lack of distance between the two men and Cerys. 

“What have you remembered?” Solas asked.

“A spirit of Justice,” Leliana began, holding what appeared to be a very worn letter, “possessed the corpse of a dead man and served alongside the Warden Commander of Fereldan.  She wrote of it to me many years ago.”

“Interesting.” Solas reached for the letter.  Leliana pretended not to see his outstretched hand.  Frowning, he crossed his arms saying,

“Such a spirit would not willingly cross over from the Fade, let alone possess a dead body.”

“It was an accident.” Leliana was rereading the letter, “There were tears in the veil in the Black Marshes.  The spirit helped the Warden Commander and her party from within the Fade.  However, when they returned, the spirit was taken with them.”  Folding the letter back up and putting it into her breast pocket, Leliana continued,

“I also was very close with a Circle mage who died and was brought back to life by a spirit of Faith inhabiting their body.”

“An abomination!” Cullen growled, “Who Leliana?!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Leliana replied tersely, “she is dead now.  She died a hero’s death and never harmed the innocent.”

A thick silence followed.

“So,” Cerys began, “what you are saying is that one, it is possible for a benevolent spirit to possess someone.  And two, that those spirits may choose to devote themselves to causes.”

“Yes.  But there are still a great many unknown factors.” Solas brought his hand to his chin.

“I think, we had better get it.” Cerys broke in.

“You’re serious?” Cullen sounded resigned, “Why?”

“In the best case, we have a mount that can strike fear into others and not fall in battle.  In the worst, we take a potentially dangerous creature from a group whose motives are unknown, and if necessary, we put it down with magic.  Either way, we are helping ourselves.”

“I cannot argue with that.” Cullen sighed, “Very well, if you wish I can have some of our soldiers secure the beast.”

“It might be better to use my spies.” Leliana countered, “We can keep the creature’s true nature hidden and ensure that nothing prevents its arrival.”

Cerys pondered this for a moment and then said, “Leliana’s people will see to it.  Better to keep this quiet until we know exactly what we are dealing with.”

“A sound strategy.” Solas agreed.

“Solas, I will need your help when it arrives.  For whatever outcome.”

“Of course Lady Herald.”

“If it needs to be put down, Cullen will you-“

“I will happily assist.  But,” the commander put his hand on Cerys’s shoulder, “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“As do I.”

With that, Cerys left the room, and none of them saw which way she went.

 

 


	6. The Bog Unicorn Part II

            Lavellen was on edge.  She’d spent hours sparring with Cassandra; she’d worked with Adan, she’d even lost spectacularly to Sera in an impromptu archery contest.  Everything had served to stave off her dark mood briefly, but the minute she found herself unoccupied, her mind turned towards unpleasant thoughts.  Rather than wait, Cerys informed Vivienne they were accepting The Mage Collective’s gift.  This lead to a tense conversation on both magic and The Circle.  The confrontation had ended with both Vivienne and Cerys feeling friendlier towards one another, but it had been the second time in a week that someone had brought up the Dalish treatment of mages.  It was not a subject that Cerys was comfortable with.

            She’d never questioned what happened to other elven children with magic.  She’d always thought her people superior to the humans since they did not have Circles or templars to abuse their mages.  But having spoken to Minaeve and Vivienne, she found her faith in her people, in her own clan, shaken.  Both described their time in Thedas’s circles with fondness.  Minaeve felt no longing for her people.  She did not feel an ache being away from the Dalish.  And with her experience, Cerys could not blame her.  Secretly Cerys had always wished she’d possessed magic.  She’d watched her clan’s First train with their Keeper enviously.  Ancient elven, the spark of magic that all elves once had possessed, learning even more of their history, all of it had been beyond her grasp.  But now, who was to say that she’d have been her clan’s First?  Would they have cast her out as Minaeve’s clan had?  Immediately she wanted to shout out in protest.  But hadn’t she seen members of her clan act ruthlessly before?  All for survival, all on the Keeper’s orders.

            These were the thoughts that interrupted her daily activities and kept her from sleeping.  It had been three days since her conversation with Minaeve and two since Leliana had set about securing her new mount.  It was due to arrive within the next few days, and Cerys was in no condition to deal with it should it prove to be a threat.  Heaving herself out of bed, Cerys pulled on her clothes and wrapped herself in her thickest cloak.  Opening the door, she made her way over to Varric’s fire.  As she’d expected, the dwarf was still awake and oiling Bianca.  She was surprised to see both Vivienne and Solas there as well.  The two mages were leafing through a book together.

            “Absolute nonsense!” Vivienne scoffed.

            “Absurd.” Solas agreed, “What kind of fool pairs dragon’s blood with-“

            “And such a waste!” Vivienne broke in, “The two would become caustic and eat-“

            “Through the gold.” Solas finished, “Fools.”

            Normally this would have made Cerys laugh and ask them questions.  In her present state, however, she simply felt left out.  Even if she’d have asked, she’d never be able to understand, to feel magic the way they did.  As she turned to leave, Varric’s voice pinned her to the spot,

            “You must be off your game if you let me hear you coming.”

            Turning her face back towards the light of the fire, Cerys saw that all three of them were staring at her.

            “Good evening my dear!” Vivienne greeted her

            “Cerys.” Solas nodded.

            “Come sit down!” Varric motioned her over, “Have a drink!  I’ve managed to get my hands on some good spirits!”

            Vivienne tutted, “You managed?”

            “Alright, alright,” Varric raised both his hands in a gesture of surrender, “The Iron Lady managed to get her hands on it.  I was a mere accomplice.”

            Smiling despite herself, Cerys sat down near the fire.  Now that she was closer to them, she could see that Solas’s cheeks were flushed with more than heat.  Even Vivienne’s shoulders were relaxed. Reaching behind him, Varric produced a cup which Vivienne filled for her.

            “It tastes better mulled.” Vivienne informed her, “Just a moment.”

            Producing a flame in her hand, Vivienne warmed the wine almost instantly.  Cerys “ooh’ed” and “aw’ed” in spite of herself and took the mug.  The first sip warmed her from the tips of her ears to her toes.

            “Delicious.”

            “Thank you, my dear.” Vivienne nodded regally, “This is the kind of wine that only ought to be served warm and in the winter.”

            “But it isn’t Orlesian?”

            “Nah.” Varric replied filling his own cup, “They call it Glühwein.  This is a Fereldan drink through and through.”

            “Though I believe the Avaar perfected it,” Solas commented offhandedly.

            “It must be nice,” Cerys sighed after a few more sips.

            “What?”

            “To have, to be able to,” Cerys waved her hand in the way Vivienne had done to draw on the fire.

            “Ah,” Vivienne settled back into her furs, “Magic has its uses.  But as we’ve discussed, it can also be very dangerous.”

            “I believe the common axiom is, ‘Magic is meant to serve man and not to rule over him.’” Solas intoned.

            Looking down into her cup Cerys’s voice was soft when she replied, “My clan’s Keeper says that all elves used to possess magic.  I would have liked to have it I think.”

            There was an awkward silence.  Vivienne spoke at last, “My life is my own, and I wouldn’t change it.  But, I would suggest that you do not wish for something you do not understand.”

            Cerys looked up at Vivienne’s tone.  It was soft but steely,

            “I cannot ever hope to understand what life is like for an elf.  Unless I have lived your life as a Dalish or,” she grimaced, “Sera’s as a city elf, I would not know what it is like for people to sneer and call me ‘knife-ear’ and turn me away from work, shops, or food.  But, you were raised with your family, knowing who your parents were.  That is more than most mages can say.”

            Vivienne stopped to take a sip of her wine, “To compare the two is to compare whether it is worse to be invisible or to be deemed dangerous and therefore constantly watched.”

            “To be both,” Solas interrupted, “is another matter altogether.”

            He continued more kindly, “But simply because you do not possess magic, does not mean that you cannot learn of it, or respect and admire it.”

            “This is true.” Vivienne conceded“One of the most talented archanists in Thedas is a dwarf who trained at the White Spire.”

            She paused then, with a glance at Solas she continued, “I would be glad to go over theorems and what tomes I have with me if you like.”

            Solas huffed, “Surely Lavellan, you would prefer to learn of the Fade and elven magic.”

            “Both,” Cerys broke in quickly, “I would learn anything you would teach me.”

            Varric chuckled, “Considering you’re having a magical beast imported, I’d say you couldn’t go wrong learning a thing or two.”

            “Very true.” Vivienne nodded then waved to Cerys, “Come here.  We were just studying a book on alchemy.  We can begin there, with the foundations.”

            “Oh boy, you’re going to need more wine for this.” Varric deadpanned refilling Cerys’s glass.

            “Allow me.” Solas moved to allow her to sit between them.  “Ah, your wine is cold.”

            He cupped both her hands and her cup.  Cerys inhaled sharply when he looked into her eyes.  The prickle of magic brushed over her hands.  Instantly both her hands and the wine were warmed.

***

The next day passed uneventfully.  Cerys spent most of it studying a book on alchemy that Vivienne had given her.  Then in the late afternoon, she shadowed Adan and made some improvements to a few healing draughts.  When the sun began to set, Cerys sat on the low wall near Varric’s fire and ate.  She was so engrossed in watching the sun disappear behind the mountains, that Solas was in arm’s reach of her before she noticed he was there.  A sharp inhalation of surprise had her inelegantly choking on some of her bread.

            “Solas-“ she coughed.

            She took a deep draught of ale to clear her throat.  It didn’t escape her notice that Solas’s cough sounded suspiciously close to a laugh at her expense.  Flushing bright red, she avoided his eyes and took another bite of bread.

            “I have been wondering,” he began, immediately commanding her attention, “have you always had an interest in magic?”

            Cerys paused before answering, “Our clan’s First is only a little bit older than I am.  He often trained with our Keeper while the rest of us played.  Memorizing the less… colorful, aspects of our history was not especially enviable.  But, learning about magic, spirits, the legends passed down from Keeper to Keeper? That knowledge?  Yes, that I’ve always been interested in.”

            Solas hummed thoughtfully, “It is difficult to imagine living without my connection to the Fade.  Living my life without dreaming.”

            “I imagine you didn’t spend your whole life dreaming.”

            There was a substantial pause before he answered, “No.  Eventually, I was unable to find new areas in the Fade.”

            “Why?”

            Solas settled more comfortably next to her.  She offered him some bread which he took.  But rather than eat it, he pulled small pieces off and crumbled them in his hands as he spoke.

            “Two reasons.  First, the Fade reflects the world around you.  Unless I traveled, I’d never find anything new.”

             Cerys, who’d spent her whole life traveling, could understand that at least.  She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

            “Second, the Fade reflects and is limited by our imaginations.  To find interesting areas, one must be interesting.”

            Cerys couldn’t help but smile.  Her clan’s Second had not been a particularly imaginative or interesting person. 

            “What made you start studying the Fade?”

            “I grew up, in a small village to the far north.” He replied, “There was little there to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic.  As I slept spirits showed me glimpses of things I could never have imagined.  I treasured my dreams.  Being awake out of the Fade became… troublesome.”

            “Did spirits tempt you?”

            “No more than a brightly colored fruit is tempting you to eat it.”

            Cerys hummed, considering this.  Then a thought struck her.  With a sinking feeling, she asked,

            “Is that why you’re here Solas?  Just to see more things so you can experience more of the Fade?”

            Solas regarded her with a sidelong look, “Not only for that.  But, yes, I admit it has been a pleasant side effect.  In truth, I have enjoyed experiencing more of life to find more in the Fade.”

            “How so?”

            “You train to flick a dagger or an arrow to its target.  The grace with which you move is a pleasing side benefit.”

            Cerys felt her cheeks flush.  He continued,

            “You have chosen a path who’s status you do not dislike because it leads to a destination you enjoy.  As have I.”

            “You’re suggesting I’m graceful?” she inquired giddily.

            “No,” he voice was suddenly deep and penetrating, “I am declaring it.  It was not a subject for debate.”

            She chuckled, but before she could say anything further, he stood.

            “I suspect your mount will be arriving tonight.  Come find me if it does.”

            As he walked away, Cerys huffed and struck the wall with the heel of her boot.  He was always leaving right as things were getting interesting.

            Several hours later, a knock on her door roused Cerys from sleep.  It was one of Leliana’s people.

            “Lady Herald, if you’d follow me, the… package has been delivered.”

            Nodding, Cerys quickly stood and pulled her cloak over her shoulders,

            “Have the others-“

            “Serrah Solas, Commander Cullen, _and_ Lady Vivienne are all waiting for you at the stables milady.”

            Cursing under her breath, Cerys hurried to the village gates.  She was not prepared for what she saw.  It was a horse, or, had been.  It was practically hairless except for its mane and tail.  Its skin was drawn tight over its bones and was black.  Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light.  And through its head, a sword was still embedded from the killing blow.  As Vivienne walked around it curiously, it huffed and suddenly reared striking out with the sword as though it were a horn.  Vivienne leaped back as Leliana’s spies struggled to regain control of it.

            “What… what is it?”

            “They’ve been calling it The Bog Unicorn.” Cullen answered, “And now I see why.”

            “Yes.”  Solas was inspecting it at a respectful distance, “This horse’s body has been preserved by the bog it was slain in.  What wasn’t preserved there, the spirit inside it is magically maintaining.”

            “Can it… can it talk?”

            “No.” Solas shook his head, “Horses are not gifted with speech in life, so this spirit cannot use the body to speak either.”

            “Kill it.” Vivienne sounded almost afraid, “It’s unnatural.  An abomination.”

            The horse screamed and tried to charge her.  Vivienne reflexively threw up a barrier,

            “Just try demon.” She spat, fire crackling in her hand.

            “Just because it cannot speak, does not mean it cannot understand you.” Solas admonished.  He moved his staff behind him and moved towards the animal with hands raised.

            “I am not a threat Spirit.  I merely wish to speak with you.”

            The horse stilled and regarded Solas with one baleful eye. 

            “If I may,” he began, his hands glowing with magic.  But the horse screamed reared for a kick.

            “There you see!” Vivienne said to Cullen, “We need to kill the thing and be done.”

            “No!” Cerys raised her hands, “Wait!”

            The horse froze, it’s eyes trained on her marked hand.  Speaking gently, as though she were comforting one of her clan’s halla, Cerys stepped forward.

            “ _Adaran atish’an_.  _Ir abalas na Elgar'arla_.”

            An ear flicked in her direction, but it showed no aggression.  She continued closer with her voice growing more steady.  Solas shadowed her movements,

            “ _Ma halani_.” She muttered to him, _help me_.

            She took the reigns from the spies.  They tried to protest, but neither she nor Solas heeded.  They untied all the ropes but the one attached to the horse’s bridal.

            “Careful Lavellan,” Cullen warned his hand on his sword.

            She heard him, but he sounded far away.  Tentatively she reached out her hand, her marked hand, towards the horse.  There was a whisper, a brush against her mind.  Then, she looked directly into the horse’s eye.  Falling!  She was falling!  Then, nothing.  She was surrounded by mist, darkness.  From the shadows, a voice thundered,

            “Daughter of the Elvhen, descendant of Arlathan, what do you want with me?”

            “What are you?” her voice came out a whisper.

            The darkness seemed to shake with laughter, “There are those who called me Xanthos.  Though in life, I believe this creature was called by another name.”

            “ _Garas quenathra?_ ”

            “I am trapped,” The voice dropped to a low rumble, “I was drawn through a tear, summoned by some fool mages.  It is against my nature to be forcibly tied to a cause!  I do not exist for mankind’s use!”  With a sigh, the voice continued, “I am Devotion.”

            “I am sorry you were trapped.  Perhaps, my friend Solas can help you return home.”

            “You would set me free?”

            “If it would keep you from harming myself or others, yes.”

            The spirit scoffed, “Harm you?  I think not.  I merely defend myself from those who would end my existence.”

            “Then… what do you want?”

            Suddenly a green light burst forth in the dark.  She shielded her eyes and stepped back. Behind her hands, the light suddenly dimmed.  When she opened her eyes again, the horse, Xanthos, stood between her and the light.  It was a Fade Rift.

            “These things, they fling the hungry ones into the world.”

            “The demons?”

            “Yes.  The humans said you mean to close them.”

            “Yes.  That is our goal.  Peace to Thedas.”

            A sharp slap to her face brought her to her senses.  She was laying the snow and Leliana had slapped her across the face.  Shaking her head to clear it, Cerys threw Leliana off of her.  Solas was standing between Cullen and Xanthos.  The Commander’s sword was drawn.

            “It tried to take her!”

            “No!  It did not!  It was speaking to her!”

            “How can you be so sure!  How do we know she isn’t possessed?!”

            “I’m fine!” Cerys stumbled to her feet then more calmly she repeated, “I’m fine.”

            Cullen seemed unsure, but Cerys spoke directly to Xanthos.

            “We mean to close the rifts and The Breach.  We will find who killed The Divine and set things right.  That is our purpose.” 

            Slowly, she pulled a knife from her belt.  Stepping forward cautiously, she was prepared to leap back.  But Xanthos did not move, not even when she set the knife to its cheek and cut the last rope binding it.  Cullen swore, but Leliana held him back.

            “ _Ar lasa mala revas_ _Xanthos_.”

            There was a moment of tension, and then the spirit turned.  It calmly walked to the area where they kept the horses.  The other horses whinnied and shied at the spirit’s approach.  With a jerk of its head, Xanthos broke the latch on a gate and walked into an empty pen.

            “It seems that you have earned its trust.” Solas sounded breathless

            “I,” she reached out her hand, “Will you stay?  Will you help us?”

            Xanthos pressed it’s nose to her hand and snorted.

            “I believe we have a new ally.”

            “Yes,” Cerys whispered, “I believe we do.”

***

            In the days that followed, everyone except Solas, herself, and Vivienne continued to give Xanthos a wide berth.  Her mark seemed to allow her to at least sense Xanthos’s moods or intentions.  But she was unable to talk to it again.  Vivienne discouraged her from trying, and even Solas was hesitant for her to make another attempt.  But Xanthos often let itself out from its enclosure and wandered.  Cullen and Cassandra managed to prevent the villagers from forming a mob to kill the spirit.  Cerys had a quiet, one-sided conversation telling Xanthos it couldn’t just wander around without an escort.  The solution it seemed was that whenever Xanthos became bored, it freed itself and quickly found either Solas or Cerys to follow around. 

            Cerys confided in Solas that she found the horse’s presence unnerving at first but largely calming.  Solas had smiled at that and used it as a starting point for a larger lesson on spirits.  Taking Xanthos out in the field with them definitely had the effect that Cerys had desired, the horse was certainly an awe-inspiring sight.  Unfortunately, when she met The Iron Bull, he did not react to Xanthos with awe.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvan translations:
> 
>  _Adaran atish’an. Ir abalas na Elgar'arla._ \- Greetings. I am sorry for being spirit bound.
> 
>  _Ma halani_ \- help me.
> 
>  _Garas quenathra?_ \- What brings you here?/What is your purpose?
> 
>  _Ar lasa mala revas Xanthos_ \- I give you your freedom Xanthos.


End file.
